Stories in Stone, Lost Empire
by TheDarkRabbit
Summary: Haunted by nightmares that no one can explain a young filly sets out on an adventure to find out the dreams meaning. Along the way secrets of her family will be reveled, bonds of friend ship will be forged anew... and perhaps she'll finally get a dang cutie mark!


Prologue

Fire.

The smell of smoke filled the air along with clouds of choking black ash from the burning trees. There were shouts, followed by the crash of steel, or the whoosh of igniting flame.

The tickle of magic accompanied each of these sounds, so too did the screams. Figures ran in the shadows, black and purple monsters of iron and death. They ran on limbs of metal and flew on wings of steel passing silent judgment on any and all that they saw. Others in flowing cloaks strode through the flames as if they were the masters of them. The fires swirled around them, parted at their passing, and burned alive all who they wished. The thud of the monsters hooves on the ash coated ground was only stilled when they found another victim.

A great splintering crack fills the air suddenly, one of the old homes started to fall as the blaze ate away at it's base leasing it's stability until the giant could no longer support its own weight. The flaming tree tottered as the sea of flames battered it feasting on it and growing larger. The doomed giant groans and creaks as it's roots give way sending the ancient growth toppling into the center of town fanning the blaze of others and sending a shower of sparks high into the night sky. The crash of the old wood and the roar of the fire briefly drowning out any other sound.

There were other figures in the smoke as well, tall and proud, fighting off the monsters with old magic and skills passed down for generations. Ornate arrows rained down on the monsters felling many, though more often than not the arrows points were dulled on the steel flesh of the monsters or turned aside by magics of the attackers. The guardians appears as a mist, striking out and fading before they a retaliation could come though even as skilled as these warriors were, even they were overwhelmed and their bodies too were consumed by the crackling fire.

There were other noises too, screams of the birds, the whimpers of the animals that lived in the village either trapped by the fire or trying to flee from it. Despite their fear and panic the monsters paid little attention to the beasts, though they would die all the same as the villagers if they remained.

Some softer, more pleading voices called out over the crackling fire,searching for loved ones,friends,, the village elders or even to the spirits themselves. Many of these voices were silenced, cut off suddenly or turned into screams as the metal monsters found them, blades drinking deep of their life's blood. The corpses were defiled and thrown to the flames as one would toss a table scrap to a hungry dog.

The scent of burning flesh, wood, and the bite of arcane magic was nearly over powering as the attack progressed The remaining villagers who could do so were in retreat, fighting through the choking haze to get to the one place they thought safe.

A sink hole lay at the edge of the village, a perilous path ran along the cliff wall down to its depths, but it remained the only possible salvation from the monsters in the village. As the shadowy forms of the inhabitants fled, rushing down trails along the rock walls not meant for such hurried movement. The monsters continued their hunt above, slaying those they found, burning everything before them to ash.

As the monsters advanced on the sink hole, the earth itself screamed and died in their wake. The very life of the land itself seemingly leeched out. The monsters were not concerned with those fleeing for the illusion of safety the crater provided, but continued to ensure that none would remain as they passed.

The sink hole was their destination as well.

The flying monsters harried the cliff path, ripping some of the villagers from the narrow trail sending them hurtling to the depths below at random, with no regard to age or gender. The attack urged the survivors onward, causing panic. The escapees stampeded knocking others aside sending their own to their deaths as they fled.

A hoof full made it to the bottom and raced through the lush growth of the forest towards their goal. They darted though the white ash, falling like snow, past rivulets of water and ornate pools blackened by soot and blood.

The massive roots of their last sanctuary stretched wide in the crater and many used them as cover as the unearthly steel javelins and spears fell among them from the sky, ending the lives of even more of the refugees, until perhaps only a half dozen remained. The tiny group of survivors rushed on seeking to shelter themselves in the temple nestled in the great roots at the trees base. The towering trunk of the great tree rising up even above the lip of the hollow which it resided.

The holy oak, a shrine and beacon to their people, a place where the spirits gathered, the Yggdrasil, the world tree . The god of all the forests whose seeds were told to have produced all life in the world.

These remaining few were allowed to watch as their god burned before them.

The demons were already there, cursed weapons hacking away at the massive hardwood, rending limb and root alike until the punishment was to much even for the ancient giant and it began to topple collapsing and splintering as it fell, the old wood unable to withstand the strain of collapse or it's own great weight.

Though it all a stallion watched from the lip of the basin. His coat a darker crimson than the blood spilled at his word, his mane and tail black like the remains the fire left. His left hoof and fore leg were blackened as well, as if they had once held flames hotter than those devouring the village. Cold blue eyes with no hint of remorse watched the carnage far below, the flames dancing in them. Around him the bodies of villagers hung from trees like macabre scarecrows in a field.

The nightmare stallion turns it's head slightly, as if taking notice of the one watching him, the black hoof raising as if reaching out to his observer.

The young mare wakes suddenly bolting upright in her bed, sheets clutched tightly to her chest as she shivers at the images panting heavily, the sweat running down her form. She bites her lip yanking her red hair back out of her face, the coloration far to close to the flames she had witnessed for her to want it in her view.

She looks around the room, at the warm beam of sunlight peeking around the curtains of her room announcing the new day was slowly but surely beginning.

This had been the worst one yet that she could recall. She had been having nightmares like this since she was a filly, though this one had been the most vivid yet, she swore she could actually still smell the burning flesh of the villagers.

"APPLEBLOOM! GIT DOWN HERE AN EAT A'FORE AJ BURNS THE HAY BACON AGAIN." Granny Smith hollers.

With a defeated sigh the young mare falls back into her bed with a curse. She felt like she had yet to even sleep.

Applebloom groans loudly in protest before rolling from under the sheets to prepare to start her day.

TDR Presents

Stories in Stone

Lost Empire


End file.
